Groaning, I drop my mouth to hers, kissing her with all I’ve got. She thrusts her hips up, kitten-like nails digging into my hips as she tries to pull me down, but I flex my muscles, resisting.
Every part of me knows that if I let her win, if I close the distance between my bare cock and her bare, wet pussy, I’ll be sliding home from one breath to the next.
And I’m not ready for that.
It takes work, but I pull my mouth away, putting enough distance between us to trace my fingers down her sternum, over her belly, across the curve of her hips. She bows toward me, needy and impatient, jerking beneath my hands.
“You cold, baby?”
“No.”
“Then what’s got you shakin’ so hard?”
“You,” she breathes. “Why aren’t you fucking me yet?”
A laugh breaks free, and I shake my head at her adorable impatience.
“Because, freckles. Wanna see if I can make you lose your mind for me. Can you handle that?”
Her little hand darts out and wraps around my cock, tugging hard and circling like she already knows exactly what I like.
“I don’t know,” she murmurs, licking her lips when I groan hard. “Can you?”
My eyes drop to where she’s jacking me off and my hips thrust into her grip. Ecstasy shoots down my spine, and I almost say fuck it, but I can’t. So much I wanna do with the woman. So much I wanna taste and touch and explore.
Precum leaks from my tip, and with great pain and effort, I drag her hand away. “Wait your turn, Georgia. I wanna play with you first.”
Before she can complain, I grab the honey I set aside earlier. It’s open, wooden dipper still coated and sticky.
“If by lose my mind, you meant pause for a snack, I’m gonna get myself off,” she says with a huff, small hands gliding down her body in a way that’s too fuckin’ distracting.
“Not yet.” I click my tongue, shoving her hands aside, then lift the honey stick above her chest. “You’re the only thing I want more than sleep, whiskey, or breathing. And tonight, I’m gonna prove it.” I tip the stick, letting the honey fall. “Drip by fucking drip.”
It’s slow and sticky, trailing down the curve of her breast like sunlight made liquid. Her back arches as the liquid hits her nipple. She gasps, spine bowing, and the sight, the sound, goes straight to my throbbing cock.
I circle the honey dipper around the peak, watching her body react. Her skin tightens, nipples hardening further as the honey glistens in the low light.
“That’s…” she chokes out, eyes wide. “That’s so hot.”
I laugh, low and dark, and lean in—licking the trail between her breasts, tasting her and honey and heaven all at once.
She moans.
God help me, that sound unravels something in me.
Still gripping the honey stick, I drag it across the other nipple, watching her twitch and squirm. Then down. Past her ribs. Along the dip of her belly. Across her hips.
She’s panting now, breath shallow and fast.
Slowly, I reach the place I’ve been starving for since the second she showed up at my door. The place I spent hours buried in the other night, and still didn’t get enough of.
Her thighs part automatically, cunt already glistening, neatly trimmed red curls damp where she’s been aching for me. I reach for the honey again, dip and swirl, and let it fall between her legs in one slow, decadent ribbon.
She gasps.
I groan.
And then I bring that stick down and coat her pussy with it—trailing it across her folds, circling her clit, dragging it through the mess she’s already made like I’m painting her in gold.
